The Secret
by American Punk
Summary: Before I can help you, you have to realize that you have to help yourself! He yelled at her. She turned to him, tears running down her face. The same goes to you.HGSS
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will. Damn it.

A/N This is under angst and romance, however it will have some occasional humorous parts. Why destroy the seriousness of it, you may ask? If I don't it's going to be depressing, and I'm **not** emo.

The Secret 

Hermione Granger was at home, enjoying the book _Of Potions and Notions_ by Miranda Arendales when her father came home. She tried to hide what he was reading, but it was too late. He snatched the book out of her hand, and even though he hadn't even said a single word, she could smell the whiskey permeating the air around him. This was trouble.

"What have I told you about reading these books in _my_ house?"

Hermione stayed silent, knowing from past experience that attempting to defend herself only made things worse.

"Didn't I tell you that you were never to read these in _my_ house?"

_Repetitive_, Hermione thought. It was true he had, but she'd been reading them every summer since she was accepted to Hogwarts, she'd just never gotten caught before. She was caught now, and completely screwed. _Just get it over with._

The thought wasn't completely formed in her mind when he grabbed two handfuls of her bushy hair and pulled her down from her seat. Hermione tried to imagine she was somewhere else. This method had worked for many years before, but it was getting harder now. Now, he power was more uncontrollable for some reason, and she found if she was very upset and not concentrating on what she was doing, it would surge and often glasses would shatter or other small things of that nature.

Her father kicked her stomach, bringing her out of her reverie and she felt the pain of it shoot up her side. Certainly a rib had broken with that one. He pulled her up again by her hair and yelled indistinguishable words in her face. His putrid breath made it hard for her to breathe and she felt a hot sting in her eyes. _Don't you dare cry, don't give him that satisfaction._ He flung her down again, and her head bounced off the tile ground.Hermione didn't make a sound.

"You stupid witch? Why the hell are you different? You're mother and I aren't like you? How the hell did you happen? Sell your soul to the devil or something didn't you? You always wanted so badly to be different, well now you are." He kicked her again. "Do you like it?"

_Oh, mother, please come home._

As if she heard her daughter's silent plea, Jane Granger walked through the door. She looked at her daughter lying on the floor and her husband standing above her, drunk and breathing heavily without blinking an eye.

"Mother, please, help me."

"Is it really worth it? I think you're beyond help."

That's when the tears fell. When her mother put herself before her daughter.

Hermione woke, drenched with sweat and clutching her side. This most recent beating had been haunting her dreams since it happened three nights ago. Just a day before she was brought to the Grimmauld Place. Her side still radiated with pain. She was thankful that she had her own room this time, afraid that were she sharing with Ginny, the girl would be alerted by her moans at night, or even worse, see the bruises that her clothing usually hid. She'd been hiding her bruises with clothes since she started primary school.

She got up and walked to the bathroom that everyone on her floor shared. Closing the door and wishing it had a lock, she lifted her shirt carefully. The bruises still hadn't faded. How could that be? She never heard the door open.

Severus Snape couldn't sleep. Again. The fruitlessness of attempted slumber was making his even more of a bastard that usual, and he knew it. He walked to the bathroom. Odd, the door was closed. He opened the door silently, so if it was occupied he hoped they would not see him.

He saw Hermione Granger, stomach exposed, fingers softly skimming the surface of a large bruise that covered most of her side. Her wince of pain wasn't lost on him, neither were the shadows under her eyes and the other, smaller bruises exposed on her back. Those weren't bruises that came from falling or any other accidental occurrence. Those were purposefully inflicted. Someone had obviously gone through an awful lot of trouble to harm her. He closed the door quietly and went to his room quickly. While he was there, he gathered a bruise diminishing potion, a dreamless sleep draught, and a book that he thought she might find useful.

Hermione returned to her bedroom, as tired as ever and found that something was different. In the middle of her bed, there was a book, and two vials of potion. More interested in the book than anything else, she picked it up. _Self-Defense Spells_ by Anaxandro Verbaux. A note fluttered out. She stooped, wincing in pain as she did, and picked it up.

_You've more use for this than I._

Well, first chapter down. Many more questions to be answered later. REVIEW…please?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own it, I really wish I did.

A/N: Hopefully, this chapter will have some humor in it, but I never know how it will turn out until I actually write it. As of now, I have no clue what I'm going to write, I just hope it turns out decently.

Severus Snape paced the floor in his shabby room in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Ms. Granger, perfect, unendingly perky, brains-of-the-Golden-Trio Ms. Granger with bruises marring the skin of her side, Ms. Granger in either an abusive relationship or with abusive parents? It couldn't be. People who were abused had a certain personality. They didn't trust and they were quiet, and often picked upon. She was almost the exact opposite. She trusted Potter and Weasley with her life, constantly had something to say, whether in class or in everyday life, and…well she _was_ often picked upon, however, she had friends who cared about her that stood up for her. She couldn't be an abused child. If that's what he really thought, however, then why on Earth had he given her the book of self-defense spells.

He knew why: he recognized the pained look in her eyes. As much as he tried to deny it, he saw the truth, that she _was_ abused, that no matter how different she was from the accepted attitude of an abused child, she was.

_She's not a child anymore. I doubt if she has been for a long time. It only takes one bad beating to take the shine of innocence off someone; it only takes living one sleepless night in fear_ _to stop pretending that people are inherently good. Judging by the way that she's kept quiet about them, this isn't the first time it's happened._

He rubbed his temples in frustration. Why did he care? He should simply inform Minerva that one of her darling little lionesses was having a few problems, yet he felt traitorous with just the thought of doing so. _Odd, I've never felt a moment of guilt playing the Dark Lord for a fool when I spy, yet even the thought of letting what she's obviously kept as a secret slip makes me feel lower than, well, a snake. Being around so many damned Gryffindors for so long must be making me go soft. _

Hermione felt a bit better after applying the bruise potion, however, her nerves were on edge. Someone obviously knew about it, but who? Dumbledore was a possibility, but somehow this didn't strike her as a way he would solve the problem. There was no possibility that it was either Ron or Harry. For one, they would have tried to go to her house and have a "talk" with her father, and she sincerely doubted either of them had these potions ready to hand out whenever it was necessary. There was only one person who did have potions constantly, and that was Professor Snape and she knew for a fact that the smarmy git would never want to help her. He made it quite clear that he loathed her with a passion. There was nothing that would make him want to help her.

Why did he care? Why was he still awake, pacing the floor wondering what to do? He shouldn't care. She was an annoying know-it-all friend of Harry bloody Potter and a Gryffindor; that should be enough to make it not his problem, _and yet._

And yet he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"You bloody fool" he whispered to himself, "she's nothing like you were when you were her age. She's fire and light while you were, and are, darkness and despair. She won't choose the same path you did. She won't suffer as you do for the sins you've still yet to atone for."

Maybe this is part of your atonement. You're certainly suffering enough. Why not tell her? Let her know that it was you who left the potions and book. She's probably frantic, thinking someone knows about it, someone who'd tell everyone else. Making up his mind, he strode purposefully out of his room to hers.

He found her sitting in a chair, asleep. She looked so small and helpless. There were stains on her cheeks, tiny rivulets of dried tears. He couldn't help but notice the insane amount of weight she'd lost this summer. It must have been nearly twenty pounds off of a girl that wasn't much to begin with. He'd noticed when she was looking at her bruises that he could count every one of her ribs easily, too easily. She couldn't be comfortable in that old spindly chair. Sighing, he picked her up to move her to the bed, holding her gingerly so he wouldn't hurt her. Once again, it shook him to see how light she was. It took no effort to move her, none at all. He pulled her blankets back with a flick of his wrist and set her down in it. And Minerva complains that I have no compassion. Her face looked pained and he noted wryly that she'd not taken that dreamless sleep potion. So it has been going on for a while. If this were just a one-time thing, she would have taken it just to stop the pain of the dreams, but someone with more…experience with this sort of thing realizes numbing it doesn't help, and often only makes it worse.

He strode out of her room, hating himself a little more when he paused in the doorway to stop and glance back at her.

A/N So, I lied. No humor. It will definitely be in the next chapter though.

_Review please, it makes me feel so good to see the __responses. Thanks to everyone whose already reviewed._


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Hey, what do you know? I still don't own it.

A/N: There will definitely be some humor in this installment.

Hermione's eyes flew open. Her ability to become fully awake the moment her eyes opened had been born from too many incidents when she could have gotten away, yet was too groggy to do so. Now, she considered it a useful trait, mornings were the best time to think for her. She often woke much earlier than those that surrounded her, so she had time, only an hour at the most, to think and to sort things out before she had to keep up the daily façade of the life in which she lived.

She stretched, startled to find that she was in bed. The last thing she'd remembered was sitting in the old spindly chair wondering who it was that had figured out her secret. Her mind snapped to attention. She'd never really solved that mystery. She was going to have to discretely ask questions in order to find the person, and then she'd have to plead with whoever it was, and implore them not to tell anyone.

She hated to beg. No matter what her father did, she never begged him to stop after the first few times. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his betrayal hurt.

She glanced around the room once more, trying to see if the person who'd left her the book and potions had left something else, a clue as to who they were. When her eyes fell on the book, she picked it up and flipped through a few of the pages. She set it down despairingly and began to get dressed.. _I don't even want to attempt any of these. I can't trust my magic enough right now. The worst thing would be if it somehow hurt someone. I just can't risk it, nor can I risk the questions that would follow._

Hermione walked quietly down the hallway until she reached the bathroom door. She pushed it softly and it swung open. Casting a glance all around her, she closed the door and once again lifted her shirt to inspect the bruises. It was amazing how different they looked now. They had faded from the deep purple to the sickly yellow of healing and when she tentatively pressed a finger to them, they did not hurt as badly. She hadn't felt this good in ages.

Much more cheerful, she made her way to the library. There were still some books that she hadn't yet read. She paced around the bookcases and saw a book that she thought may be interesting. The only problem was its position. It was on the top shelf. As she reached as high as she could to try to grab the book, she once again cursed her height. She hopped slightly to give herself a little more reach, ignoring the fact that she would look ridiculous to anyone who saw her because she did not believe anyone was yet up.

Severus Snape cocked a brow when he saw Hermione Granger hopping up and down with her arm stretched out. She looked completely undignified and he almost laughed when she jumped higher and fell. The unladylike string of curses was the most amusing part.

He took several strides forward and reached above her hand.

"Ah, here's the book I needed." He commented, taking the book he knew she wanted and strode off without saying another word.

He was surprised when it took more than a few moments before he heard her voice.

"Hey, I was trying to reach that book! I wanted it first."

"Well, I'm older and taller, so too bad." He informed her, a smirk on his face.

"That's not fair!"

"Life," he said, turning slowly to face her, "Ms. Granger, is rarely fair. I'm sure you already realized that. You shouldn't be jumping around in your current condition anyway."

He spun around and made his dramatic exit with a smile. If she wanted it, she'd have to convince him to let her have it, and there was nothing more amusing to do at this disgusting place than deny the Gryffindor goddess her book. Aside from that, it would mean she would have to come see him, and the long sleepless night had convinced him that he was going to have to spend more time around her if he wanted to alleviate the guilt, which he hated to admit, tore at him.

Hermione watched him leave, mouth agape. It was he? _Well, I suppose you won't have to worry about the person telling anyone, he's not exactly the world's biggest talker._

A/N I guess parts of it could be considered slightly amusing. Hmmm.

Review?


	4. Confidant

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Seriously, I'm seventeen I don't own anything in the world.

A/N: I am so sorry for not continuing this story, I lost my muse, but I found it again and I have it beside me right now.

Chapter 4 **Confidant **

Hermione sat staring out the window in the library where she's remained for several hours after her encounter with Professor Snape. Of all the people to find out about her secret, he was the best. He wouldn't tell anyone and she doubted he's care enough to find out what happened, least of all confront her father about it. Now were it Harry or Ron…

She supposed that she should speak with him, not because she thought it would make her feel better, but because not having that book she'd been waiting to read was going to drive her absolutely mad. Perhaps she could persuade him to give it to her if she told him she'd have it back to him in a few hours. _I should have asked him long ago then, before he had a chance to start reading it, he may have been a bit more obliging before he started reading. Then again, I doubt he's at his most rational early in the morning._

She had to get it back though, if it weren't for books she'd have gone insane long ago and the fact that she wanted this book so badly was doing little for her nerves. _Why would he want a book on the theory of spelled potions anyway? He's a potion's master; he should have already not only learned the theory about them, but successfully brewed several. _

Decisively, Hermione stood to her feet, wincing only slightly at the pain this sudden movement caused, and strode out the door.

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When he head the tentative knock at his door, Severus smiled to himself. He was quite surprised with the young Gryffindor's restraint. He would have thought that it would have been bare minutes before she rushed up the stairs, demanding that he return her book. He had noticed, with wry amusement, that the book she'd been so intent upon acquiring was a book he'd written several years prior, when he hadn't lost all hope on her generation. Gone now was his belief that they would produce adequate Masters and Mistresses of the intriguing subject of potions. There was, he believed, only one person who may possibly achieve excellence in the art, and that would only be if she realized that books couldn't teach everything.

Straightening his frock coat, he picked up the book and opened the door with one hand as he held the book open to a random spot with the other.

"Ms. Granger, why are you interrupting my quiet reading time? I can assure you, it is not something I often have, especially not when I am forced to teach persistently annoying students like a certain brunette Gryffindor."

"I want that book, sir. I've been looking forward to reading it since I discovered it during the winter holidays last year. Aside from that, I thought that something as trivial as the theory of spelled potions would be utter simplicity for a potion's master."

Hmmm, he hadn't thought of that.

"Is it against the law to read books based upon one's specialty now, Ms. Granger?"

He saw a faint rosy blush tint her cheeks. "Well, no but…"

"But, what Ms. Granger?"

Hermione shook her head wordlessly and Severus had to hold back an astonished laugh. He'd never seen the girl struck speechless before. Oh, where was the impudent Colin Creevy and his camera now?

"Please, will you just let me have the book Professor?"

The fun was sucked from his game in that moment. She sounded so tired and defeated. Whoever had hurt her should be tortured slowly by the Dark Lord. He would have never believed that Hermione Granger would lose the spirit and fight so quickly.

"Please come in Ms. Granger," she looked up at him, shocked. "I promise I won't bite you, I never thought that you would be one to believe all of the silly vampire rumours. I can assure you that no harm will come to you while you are in my presence." When she remained motionless, staring at him he sighed. "Well, if you don't want the book then, fine." He went to close the door but she slipped in before he shut her out.

"Now, Ms. Granger I want to know, who hurt you."

Her eyes shot to the door and he leaned against it bringing an end to any thought of escape.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"I don't want to tell you." Even to her ears, that sounded childish.

"Ms. Granger I swear to you, whatever is told in this room will not leave it unless you wish it so. I'd suggest you tell me what I want to know, lest I accidentally let it slip to the Headmaster that the school's Golden Girl is in an abusive relationship with some boy from her home town."

"I don't have a boyfriend." She objected to that immediately.

"So, your brother, mother, uncle…" he stared into her eyes "father?"

When he'd said father, she looked away quickly and he had his answer.

"That's all, then Ms. Granger. The book is yours."

"You won't tell anyone will you sir?"

He felt his back stiffen at this and he turned a cold eye upon her.

"I gave you my word, you should not insult me by asking me if I will keep it."

Hermione grabbed the book and left his room. As the door shut behind her she slid against it, holding the prized tome against her chest. She felt like screaming.

"Hermione, what the hell were you doing in the git's room?"

A/N: That's all for now, I'll try to update often. I hope it was worth waiting for.


	5. Excuses

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

Chapter 5 **Excuses**

Hermione felt trapped. Harry and Ron were both staring at her, Harry inquisitively and Ron accusingly. Answers ran through her mind, but she discarded many of them for being truly outrageous or too close to the truth.

"Oh Ron, don't you know that I've been having a torrid affair with professor Snape for years? Honestly, what do you think I was doing in there? I had a question about the holiday homework and I thought that I'd ask him about it, now that he's answered it I can be sure that I have my assignment done just right. What about you, have you finished it yet?"

Ron's ears went completely scarlet. Before he could answer the door opened and professor Snape stepped into the hall.

"Now Ms. Granger, you may as well tell them, they'll know soon anyway."

He wasn't going to tell them was he? No, he'd just given his word not a minute ago. He wouldn't…would he?

"Fine, if you won't tell them, I will. I asked Ms. Granger to come to discuss the possibility of becoming a lab assistant to me and she has accepted the position."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she gaped at him. _What did he just say? _

"They were going to find out anyway, being my assistant means helping me with potions and other things of that nature twice a week, so close your mouth already before you catch a bloody fly." With that, Professor Snape glided away.

"Holy hell Hermione, why would you do such a thing?" Ron looked incredulous, whereas Harry looked only mildly concerned.

"How are you going to do give up two nights a week and still keep up with all the studying you do?" Harry asked, "You don't have another time-turner do you?"

"Of course not Harry, I'll have to work it out somehow. I already agreed to do it."

"But _why_ Hermione"? Ron asked once again.

"I figured it would be good experience for me in case I decided to be a healer once school was over. This way, I can brew my own potions and not have to wonder about the potency or whether or not the person who brewed it did so correctly. It will take a load off of my mind."

"I thought that you'd be an auror like me and Harry, Mione. Isn't it what we always planned on doing?"

Suddenly, the pressure from the past few days, and the tumultuous last few minutes seemed to be too much for her. What she needed was some time to be alone.

"No, Ron. That's what you two decided we would do. I've had enough war and battles in my life. I don't want my profession to make me deal with things of that nature. And I've told you before, I detest that horrid nickname you gave me. My name is Hermione, not Mione, _Hermione_!" With that she pushed past the boys and walked away but not before hearing Ron and Harry's last words.

"What do you think is wrong with her, Harry?"

"Dunno, Ron, maybe she didn't sleep well."

"Maybe it's her time of the month, Ginny gets really bitchy round that time too."

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Severus Snape was enjoying a cup of Earl Grey when Hermione stormed past him. As she walked by him, he felt her hand bump his and a piece of parchment was pushed into his hand.

_Parlor, five minutes._

He checked his watch and decided she could wait a little longer than five minutes. He wanted to enjoy his tea. Just as the thought crossed his mind, the disagreeable duo, as he liked to call them, entered the room. He barely suppressed a sigh. Now there was no way he could enjoy his tea. He set the cup down with a resounding smack and pushed his chair back. As he got up, he felt a few bones pop and he rolled his eyes. He was getting far too old to still be in the Order, and far too old to be a spy.

He considered blowing their little meeting off, but his bloody conscience wouldn't allow it. She was in a bad situation and maybe it was the still naïve part of him, but he wanted to help, so if she was willing to talk, damn it he would listen.

A/N: I'll update more later. Hope you enjoyed this.


	6. Conversations

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Conversations

Hermione sat on the corner of the couch, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms tightly clamped around her legs. She hadn't been able to sit like this for a while. It was a wonder to be able to make even the slightest movement without pain shooting through her abdomen.

She closed her eyes as she remembered the day she left her home for Grimmauld Place. She'd been getting ready to apparate when her father stumbled drunkenly into the room. He's grabbed her by the hair and shoved her against her dresser.

"I don care how far away you go, you're mine" His voice had sent chills down her back. The tone was even worse than the words. He sounded possessed. "You will come back for the holidays," he continued "because if you do not, I will find you and I will kill you. If I can't be free of your existence, you won't ever be fully free of my presence" He landed a savage kick to her side, then his whole demeanor changed and he sat next to her and pulled her into a soft hug. His breath ruffled her hair and he sounded like he once used to. "Have fun with your friends Mione, love. Always remember that your father loves you. I'll see you soon, sweetie."

The words he spoke had stuck with her. He'd see her soon; how soon? She shook her head to ward off these thoughts and the feeling of helplessness that came with them. If she was really the brightest witch of her age, then how could she be in this situation? When she was younger, her father hadn't been so cruel. It was only after Gabriella…

She wouldn't think about it. She couldn't. She had to think about some way to change what was happening now; she couldn't change what happened then.

She was never going to go back there. It didn't matter what he'd said, he could never find her if she chose to hide.

There was something about hiding though that left a sour taste in her mouth. She knew that hiding from something wouldn't make it go away. She hadn't hidden from Death Eaters, how could she even consider hiding from her own father?

The door opened and her silent musings were interrupted by the quiet entry of Professor Snape. He sat on the other end of the couch and surveyed her with his dark, solemn eyes. There were a few moments of silence before Hermione spoke.

"Why did you tell Harry and Ron that I agreed to become your assistant?"

"It seemed appropriate at the time as your explanation was exceedingly faulty."

"There was nothing wrong with what I chose to tell them!"

"You're obviously quite green to the game of deception, aren't you Ms. Granger? Why would I have a student in my private quarters for something as trivial as a quick question about the homework you would have never left until a week before the new term began. Even someone with such a small amount of intelligence as Mr. Weasley would see straight through your flimsy charade. Not only would he do so, but the combined total of both Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter's brain power would undoubtedly bring them to the wrong conclusion, per usual and they would once again decide that I was doing something thoroughly evil that, this time, involved you. It was much simpler to come up with a plausible explanation that no one could disprove. That," he paused, "is the difference between life and death when the stakes of the game are high."

She knew he was right and admired the ease with which he had woven a credible story that no one would doubt. However, she would never admit that she knew he was right, nor would she admit her admiration.

"Are you really going to have me assist you?"

"I just said that I was, did I not? How is your side doing by the way?"

The sudden switch in topics threw her off for a moment.

"It's fine, thank you." She replied stiffly. She took a quick breath and launched into a speech she had prepared. "I hope you don't believe that just because you happened to find out about all of this, it means that you have the right to the right to inquire about my life and circumstances. I didn't confide in you, you rudely barged in on me, that doesn't give you any rights."

"No, you're right. That doesn't give me rights. However, the fact that I am your teacher and t hat you are now my assistant who will help me with volatile potions gives me the right to know whether you are physically and emotionally stable enough to do so."

Once again, she knew he was right and it was killing her to acknowledge it, even to herself.

"Now, down to the matter at hand, your duties. You will come twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. The occasional Saturday if need be. You will help me with cleaning and sorting instruments, gathering ingredients, brewing potions that I believe you are capable of, and grading essays. Chances are, I will need you to stay at the castle for the holidays." He paused to give her a searching sweep. "If there is a problem I will resolve it. Once I inform the headmaster of my decision, he will magically bind us for the duration of your assistance. It's a standard procedure as once one has accepted an assistant's job in potions, they are under the protection of the one they assist."

Up until this point, Hermione had just been intently listening. Upon hearing this, however, she interrupted him. "What precisely do you mean by that, sir?"

"I mean, you cannot be harmed without my knowledge, and typically I will almost be forced to your side. This binding spell was introduced after too many assistants died while doing something for the person they were assisting."

Hermione made a face at that. "How dangerous is this? Honestly, sir, I've been in jeopardy all my life, a job as an assistant probably won't even come close to my sense of danger."

He smirked at her wry sense of humor. "True."

"You're not going to tell anyone, right?"

"Obviously, you're one who needs constant reassurance. No, I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Okay."

"Good, so we've reached an agreement then?"

"Yes."

Hope you enjoyed it. Not much happened in this chapter. You'll have to wait to find out who Gabriella is, though.


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